


Vanwainurolírë

by Ingi



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Book extracts, Divination, Durin’s Day 2018, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Inspired by Fanart, Light Angst, M/M, POV Multiple, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Tarot, The Only Plot is Love, Tolkien Mythology, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 13:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingi/pseuds/Ingi
Summary: So know this, you who wish study the Adopted Children with this sacred writing, no matter what you search:Dwarves have gods, and these gods are not always stone.





	Vanwainurolírë

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinigami714](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami714/gifts).



> All my thanks to the mods of Gathering Fiki for making this possible! <3 And of course, to shinigami714, for the [excellent fanart](https://shinigami714.tumblr.com/post/168698582616/day-5-of-the-12-days-of-christmas-fili-and-kili) that inspired this work.  
> (You can also check out the [incredible artwork](https://shinigami714.tumblr.com/post/178886318466/art-by-me-writing-by-when-legends-come-true) that [shinigami714](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami714) made based on my own work for Durin's Day!)
> 
> The title was inspired by the Quenya word _Ainulindalë_ (The Music of the Ainur/Holy Ones). _Vanwainurolírë_ means, roughly, The Song of the Lost Holy Ones (thanks, [Parf Edhellen](https://www.elfdict.com/)!).  
>  In the end note, there are brief definitions and links to explain some of the terms used in this work, so readers less familiar with the Tolkien lore do not find themselves terribly lost. (But do keep in mind that while I use many of Tolkien's terms, I make up nearly all of the mythology.)

 

> _And in the year 1000th of the Third Age, the Valar sent five of their Maiar to Middle-earth. They, who would begin to be known as the Istari, rallied to protect Ilúvatar's and the Valar's creations from Sauron._
> 
> _But there were other Maiar who did not desire to join Sauron, and were not chosen to oppose him, and those Maiar saw the Istari descend to Middle-earth and they were curious, and they took a fana or physical form and followed the Istari. Ilúvatar was not pleased, for He had not made the Maiar for them to join the other creations, and with one mighty finger He pointed at them and made their memories finicky and weak, made them forget their own ëalar, tied them to the fanas they had chosen to take until they decayed and they were reborn in another._
> 
> _With His last thought He tied them to paths, for the Maiar who turned gods, as the Men began calling them, were forces that should be inflicted equally among every kind of creature in Middle-earth, so none of them would bear too much of the burden. And so some took hröar and lives as Elves, and others as Men, and so it was for every creature.  
>  _
> 
> _We do not know of the names the gods bore when they were Maiar, for they do not remember themselves, but us the Fistborn of Ilúvatar hold the knowledge of their number and their nature._
> 
> _So know this, you who wish study the Adopted Children with this sacred writing, no matter what you search:_
> 
> _Dwarves have gods, and these gods are not always stone._

 

 

 

Soon after Fíli is born, Thorin takes him to see Lhór.

He is a traditionalist at heart, Dís' brother, but he does not understand the paths like Dís does—he's too swift to interpret, too willing to give meanings that suit him—, and Dís worries. Her child is not like the other dwarves, not as if the stone that made him were inadequate in some way, but as if he were not made of stone at all.

So Dís walks to see Lhór with them, because should her brother make her child's destiny for him, Dís wants to know exactly how to begin unravelling it.

Lhór, young and unsmiling, spreads the sheets of metal she carved when she was but a child on the ground, so that what is carved on them with careful lines is hidden from them. There are twenty-six, and Fíli must choose only two.

Dís undoes her son's braids and stands back, for Lhór is the only one who can touch him while he's drawing the cards.

Most dwarven children get distracted, not understanding what it is that they must do, and Lhór needs to guide their little hands with her eyes closed and drop them after seven breaths. But Fíli, Fíli only stares at the sheets spread in front of him with solemn eyes, and he reaches out with both hands and a coordination that he has not shown to posses until this moment, taking hold of two cards with such a certainty that Dís feels a forebonding chill.

Lhór raises her eyebrows and takes the cards from him.

_Strength_ , the first one declares, in old runes. A lion's face is expertly carved under them.

"A child born from power and for power, this one," Lhór says, but Dís can see her eyes clouding with confusion and discomfort.

_The Fool_ , the second card claims, above the carving of a bird sitting on an arrow.

Lhór keeps quiet for a long time, impervious to Thorin's increasingly impatient glare. Dís has known her since she was but a babe, and she has never seen that expression on her face before.

"Lhór," Thorin prompts, not understanding, not yet.

"Never despair, says Strength," Lhór whispers. "First and last, The Fool - everything and nothing, that he is. Strength is balance. The Fool is- the opposite. Something else." She looks up at Thorin, and then at Dís. Her right hand goes, blind, to take a card, and even as she draws it out and turns it around so they can see, she never checks the carving - she doesn't need to. "The Lovers or The Twins. This is not one destiny. This is two lives interwoven like the threads in the tapestry of the world."

Thorin pales, then, and his own hand—so still that he must be forcing it not to shake—takes a card, as he remembers the lessons of his youth. Dís always found it amusing, how he would understand the paths less clearly than herself, but they would always go easier to him.

"The World," Dís says, when he turns the card around. "An ending and a beginning. A new cycle is about to start." She brushes her fingers over the figure carved on the center, the hammer representing divinity. "But will it be one or joy or despair?"

Lhór bows her head slightly to them, and then to Fíli—who has fallen asleep on Dís' chest.

"There are no cards for that, Lady Dís."

And Dís knows this to be true, but she has a feeling either way.

 

 

 

Dís finds that she is with child mere days after Fíli's destiny is laid out before her.

She is not particularly surprised.

Fíli presses his little hands to her belly first, then his ears—one and then the other—, as if he might be able to hear his brother speaking from within Dís, and he wants nothing more than to listen. And Dís' child, who has always been so quiet, so _small_ , suddenly becomes something else. His eyes speak of an intelligence that discomforts. He walks like he could make the sea follow him, if he so desired.

"Have you been waiting long?" Dís asks him one afternoon, without thinking.

She tries not to shiver when he nods.

Many months later, when Kíli is born, Dís is the one to take him to Lhór.

Kíli—grin so bright that it blinds—draws The Fool first, then Strength, and without any prompting, takes a third card and hands it to Dís, guileless.

_The Sun_ , she reads, smiling.

And she knows that she was right.

 

 

 

> _Ilúvatar made the Valar, and He saw them love, and He saw them join in ëala and in fana, and He thought it was good. It was time for Him to make the Maiar, but He did not desire to make them alone any more, not when He had seen the joy His Valar had found in each other._
> 
> _But there were two Valar who had not taken a spouse, and Ilúvatar went to them and He asked them why._
> 
> _'I am the Sea,' the Vala Ulmo said, 'and the Sea cannot be tamed. The Sea cannot be bound.'_
> 
> _And Ilúvatar knew not to tie the Maiar's fate too tight, only enough so they would find each other, and with their bond choose to tie themselves if they so desired._
> 
> _'I am Grief,' the Vala Nienna said, 'and where there is only Grief, there cannot be love.'_
> 
> _And Ilúvatar knew more about love, then, and He knew that it should not be pain._
> 
> _At last Ilúvatar had learned enough, and so He took his thoughts and He molded them, as He had molded them into the Valar before. When He was finished, He called the Valar to Him and asked them to sing of love, and as their voices rose, Ulmo's and Nienna's two discordant but armonious notes in the melody, the newly created Maiar approached them._
> 
> _Those of the Maiar who went to Ilúvatar, He kissed them on the forehead and watched them find each other. Some asked for more than one kiss and so found more than one love, and some did not go at all and so were not guided to any other, and many received a single kiss and so found a single love.  
>  _
> 
> _Ilúvatar watched this and He saw that it was good, and He saw that what bonds He had helped into being He could not sever, for they were beyond even His power._
> 
> _And it was because of this strength that, when Mairon joined his spouse Melkor in his corruption, Ilúvatar took their names but He did not take their bond, so they became Sauron and Morgoth, but still joined. And it was because of this strength that, when some of the Maiar became gods, Ilúvatar took their names and turned their ëala into fëa, but He did not break them apart._

 

 

 

Fíli remembers—vaguely, as if in a dream—the state of utter confusion and sorrow he lived in for the first few years of his existence.

There was much he felt like he was missing, even though he could not discern what any of it was, and his own body did not fit him right—too constraining, weirdly-shaped at times—, and the worst thing of all - the _sound_. The world was silent—under all the noise, under everything—and that filled him with strange grief, but there _was_ a sound where the music should have been and it was as constant as his own heartbeat - only, it was more hum than song, quieter than the wind, and Fíli just _could not hear_ , he could not _understand_.

Fíli remembers—as clearly as if it were happening at this very moment—when all the confusion and sorrow faded into nothing.

His brother Kíli was but a newborn babe, and Fíli sat and took him from his mother's arms for the first time—confident as if he had done it a thousand times before—, and as they touched—as Kíli looked up at him with wide, discerning eyes—the sound that had been tormenting Fíli from the moment he'd been born suddenly- _stopped_.

And then the complete silence of the world did not worry him anymore, and his body became truly his, and as he looked back into Kíli's eyes he forgot all about what he had been missing.

 

 

 

It is many years later that Fíli begins to understand the first of those events.

They have both grown, his brother and he, and their uncle has decided that it is time for him to pass the responsability of training them in combat onto Dwalin. So they fight Dwalin, and they lose—miserably, even taking on him both at once—, and they draw themselves a bath and go back to their chambers when they're done.

Fíli lays back on his bed and sighs, feeling like dough must after it's been forcefully kneaded into bread, and Kíli glances at him and laughs for no reason Fíli cares to comprehend.

_(His laughter is the most wonderful thing in Eä. It is one of the very few things that never changes, no matter which fëa Valda is inhabiting at the moment, and in it there are ripples of the Music of the Ainur like glimpses of the rainbow in the most revitalizing of the waters-)_

"I'm sorry, weren't you the one who had to crawl back home?" Fíli says, eyebrows raised, although he knows it must look less impressive from where he is laying.

"Yes," Kíli replies, simply—uncharacteristically.

And with his widest grin, he approaches the bed and lets himself fall heavily on top of Fíli. He has no qualms in elbowing or kneeling Fíli when necessary to find the most comfortable position for himself, and it's been a long time since he could last rest on Fíli's chest without restricting his breathing at all, but-

His heartbeat is steady and reassuring, and he's as warm as if he'd been dozing under the sun for hours. Every time Fíli breathes in, he smells _clean_ in Kíli's hair and _alive_ in his pulse and something else that he cannot pinpoint, or name, but that he knows all the same.

Fíli loves him more than it's safe, and the knowledge sits on his chest heavier than his brother's body.

"You are thinking again," Kíli says, already sounding sleepy.

"I promise you, Kee, it does not hurt," Fíli laughs, but before he can finish his comeback in the obvious way—he's the only one who can cast aspersions on his brother's intelligence, partly because he's the one who knows best how wrong they are—, Kíli sits up, knees digging into the bed at either side of Fíli's hips, and stares at him with a scowl.

"Does it not?" he asks, and the intensity of his gaze makes it impossible for Fíli to lie.

So he says nothing.

Which is obviously a mistake, because Kíli takes that silence and turns it into _something_ , and with that something clutched in his fists he leans in and kisses Fíli, and the joining of their lips somehow feels so familiar— _inevitable_ —that Fíli's head spins.

The world is silent, but in that silence, a sound rises-

_('And you shall weave your own Thoughts into the music,' Ilúvatar had said, and those of the Ainur who loved weaved the melody of it into the great song, and that love became a part of Eä as it was a part of them, and even those Maiar who forgot- even those-)_

And Fíli realizes that it has been there the whole time, it has only become clearer and louder in the years since he last thought of it, but so well-molded into his very being that he cannot longer hear it unless he so desires.

But feel it - he can feel it _always_.

 

 

 

> _The seventh and eighth Maiar to defy Ilúvatar were tied to the path of the Dwarves, even though their nature was not that which belonged to Aulë._
> 
> _As the tales that they brought to life were greatly tied to their names, moreso than the gods we have recalled until now, and their names have been lost, we cannot know for sure what said nature was. Some scholars trace the Seventh's nature to that of two possible Valier, Vairë the Weaver and Varda Elentári, while especulating that the Eighth's nature might be that of Estë the Gentle or Manwë Súlimo._
> 
> _Us, the authors of this sacred writing, disagree. The Seventh's nature, according to those tales that might have belonged to his name, could only belong to Nessa the Swift, or perhaps her brother Oromë the Hunter, while the Eighth's nature, for that very reason, must belong to Tulkas the Strong._
> 
> _The truth is, even so, that what we know for certain of the Seventh and the Eighth is scarce._
> 
> _They were bonded, and their love was woven into the Music of the Ainur._
> 
> _They descended to Middle-earth together.  
>  _
> 
> _When they were to be punished, the Seventh tied his wrist to the Eighth's with a chain of mithril Aulë had crafted, so they would forever be reborn linked. When they were to be punished, the Eighth whispered words of power into the Seventh's ear - but what he said, we cannot know or imagine._

 

 

 

Kíli heard it for the first time—that he knows of, either way—when he was born, or perhaps even in his mother's belly.

He has never fooled himself into thinking that it was commonplace, the song that is always in his heart and speaks of love and wonder and the kinds of power that shake him to his core—the song with its undertone of _remember remember remember_ in the melody, more instinct than sound. But he has never been afraid, either, even though he has known, since he was a child—listening to stories about the Music of the Ainur and what the Ainur wove into it—, that perhaps he should.

When he was born, his mother sat him on her knee and told him about true names.

How he was the only Middle-earth creature who knew his own, for he had been born with the knowledge in his bones. How it was to be secret to all but himself, for it was a sacred name given by Mahal in their language, and outsiders mustn't hear of it- and other dwarves mustn't either—except for the very beloved, if utterly necessary—, because true names held power, and it was power like no other, power tied to that of the Ainur themselves.

And Kíli sat still and listened, and nodded very seriously, and did not tell Dís that where his name should've been, he held only inky darkness and mist.

Oh, there was a name somewhere in him, all right.

But it was not _his_.

 

 

 

The chambers are familiar, and so is the bed, and so is the dwarf in that bed.

Kíli blinks and it's his home and his brother laying on the bed, and then he blinks again and it's something else entirely. Once, before they were born, they were different than they are now. Kíli has suspected this— _known_ , known in his blood and in his fëa—for many years, but it not until this very moment that he truly _understands_.

_(It is a matter of luck that he has found himself in such a hröa, this time, but Etelehtar has always preferred being fair-haired. The Golden One, they used to call him, and not only for his chosen fanas, even though it was often only the Valar who had such names-)_

Fíli smirks at him and asks him a question, but Kíli cares not for it.

It is his feet that carry him to his brother, but it is not only his will that does so- it too is the will of the second voice in his head, the one that whispers—almost too quiet to hear—things that Kíli would often rather not know, and it too is the will of hundreds of other voices that are maybe his own and maybe the ones that sang the world into being.

And Fíli must hear his own voices, but if Kíli knows him at all, he does not listen to them.

These are not voices that should be ignored.

So Kíli leans down and kisses him, and then they pull away and Fíli stares at him with dark, startled eyes, and he takes Kíli's right hand with his left like he means to do something with it, but he doesn't.

"Yes," Kíli says, smiling so wide that it must be close to frightening, because he knows exactly what Fíli wants—and never will do, because he is Fíli.

His own left hand finds Fíli's right one, and he pulls it to his heart, waiting to see what his brother will do.

"You don't want this," Fíli says, slowly, because he is, above all, thick as an axe—when it's the least convenient. But he must realize how he sounds, and his eyes pull at the corners as he tries to hold back a smile. "You might," he accepts, and some of the mirth leaves him even as he adds, "but your ideas are-"

" _Excellent_ ," Kíli finishes for him, still grinning, and presses his brother's right hand harder against his heart. "All that talk about how I was born as confused as a goat in the middle of the Sundering Seas-"

"You _were_."

"-and now you're the one who doesn't understand anything." Kíli would usually poke fun at Fíli for it for as long as it took his brother to grow sick of it, but not this time. Not with this. " _I give thee the true name my fëa holds_ ," he says in Khuzdûl, and Fíli pales, but he does not stop him. " _I give it to this hand that will hold it and not harm it._ "

" _What is it that thou give?_ " Fíli replies, after a moment.

He's looking at Kíli like-

Kíli kisses him again so he doesn't have to look at Fíli, not now. He grasps his brother's hand tighter.

"Etelehtar," he says, and as it leaves his lips it is not a name anymore.

It is a beckoning.

_('Keep my name,' Etelehtar had whispered in the uproar, Ilúvatar's accusing finger pointing at them. 'He will take it from me, but by His own power, He cannot take it from you. Keep it safe as I will keep yours.' And so they had, and the names were not lost forever, merely forgotten, until they-)_

Fíli takes Kíli's right hand and presses it against his own heart.

" _Take my name_ ," Etelehtar insists in Khuzdûl, but it's not Etelehtar this time, it's Fíli and he _knows_ , he must.

" _What is it that thou give?_ " Kíli answers, heartbeat loud in his ears, and Fíli whispers the name like he doesn't quite want to give it back and in an instant, all the thoughts that were just beyond his reach begin to take form.

He is Kíli, son of Dís, and he's loved Fíli since he drew his very first breath.

He is Valda of the Ainur, and he's loved Etelehtar the very same way, and for many more lifetimes still.

 

 

 

> _It is said that when Ilúvatar gathered the Maiar to punish those who had followed the Istari, He hesitated, for He loved them as much as He loved His children._
> 
> _It is said that He offered them words of undertanding, not of chastisment. That His punishment was not such, but a way for the gods to learn from His children as the Istari would, until they lived a thousand lives and could be awakened, their ëalar restored and their names remembered, so they might aid Middle-earth as the Istari had done._
> 
> _It is said that He made the gods forget their ëalar, but could not erase them, and so the gods never lost their true nature. It is said that because of this they can be recognized, that there are signs. They know things. They have a certain glint in their eyes. Their destiny, when predicted by the Children of Ilúvatar, is distinct. They can talk to the fire, or the trees, or the water. Their aim is always true, their strength is unmatched, their mind is clear. Not all of these are true at the same time, but at least one always is._
> 
> _It is said that when the gods begin to awaken, it is their names that will come first, and with their power bring everything back._
> 
> _We cannot know which of these legends are true, if any. The Valar refused to speak of it. But it is known that Rúmil, author of the Ainulindalë, wrote his daughter a poem when she was a child, and it is said that some of his more ambiguous verses described the Valar's joy as the gods awaken in the hröar of Ilúvatar's children._
> 
> _But those verses have, unfortunately, been lost to time._

 

 

 

The day before Thorin departs for the Shire with her children, Dís accompanies them to see Lhór.

She has grown, but not enough to be able to hide her discomfort when she sees Fíli and Kíli, walking in sync behind Thorin, as if she were reliving the destiny she read for them years ago—and how it was written in a language she could not quite understand, most of all. But she takes out her metal sheets and offers them to whoever will take them.

It is Thorin who draws the first card, and Dís has a rare moment of intuition right before he turns it around.

She can see it in her mind, the carved stone with dwarvish features, the magnificient pillars behind it that represent the Halls. And as she looks down, and she sees the rune for death, she feels no surprise—only grief, and fury, and the certainty that she won't be able to save him. Not his brother, who has never listened when he should have. Not his brother, who is already nodding solemnly and accepting the price.

Lhór watches them in silence, but her hands are holding onto the remaining sheets tightly enough to turn her knuckles white.

"Our turn," Kíli says, taking a step forward.

And he's beaming, and Dís' first thought is that he has not understood, but- that smile has _teeth_. Beside him, the line of Fíli's jaw is set in the kind of stubbornness that only Dís' grandmother could ever hope to match.

Fíli draws the second card.

If Dís were a different dwarf, she might've closed her eyes, but she is who she is and so she keeps them wide open, even though a part of her is dreading and fearing that her son, her eldest son will merely draw Death.

But there is a brief silence, and Lhór is taking the card back and gently tracing the carved jewel with a finger, avoiding Fíli's gaze—although Dís can see that her eyes are wet and her forehead is creased with relief. All Dís can think is _He will live_ , and _It won't be for nothing_.

"The Arkenstone," Lhór says, quietly enough that Dís knows she is thinking of what has been lost for so long. "A shift in destiny, to bring good fortune. Victory."

Fíli takes his brother's hand and squeezes it briefly. It is as it has always been, but somehow not the same. Dís would understand in an instant, were she able to pause to think, but in her mind there is only her brother and the thousand of ways he could die in his quest—he _will_ die on his quest—well out of her reach.

And then Kíli reaches out and draws the third card.

Dís has never seen such a carving—a pointed hat, tall pillars under it—, but Thorin's head snaps to stare at his nephews, and the glint of resignation leaves his eyes.

"The Istari," he breathes, not reverent as much as gleeful.

"The divine in the apparently mundane," Lhór adds, turning to Dís, and she smiles for the first time since Dís has known her. "And life, and rebirth."

Dís studied the paths when she was a mere child. She knows, she _knows_ how a card's meaning can change by the drawing of the next. And most of all, she knows her children and their Durin will, and she remembers when, many years ago, they stood before Lhór like they do now and they showed them their destiny.

"Well," she says, proud when her voice doesn't shake, and slowly begins to smile, "that changes things."

 

 

 

When it all ends, it would be hard to say that nothing is lost.

But it would be harder to say that everything is.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Adopted Children of Ilúvatar](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Dwarves#Origin): dwarves.  
> [Ëala(r)](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/%C3%8Balar): soul (divine).  
> [Fana](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Fana): physical form taken by a divine soul.  
> [Fëa(r)](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/F%C3%ABa_and_hr%C3%B6a): soul (non-divine; tied to a body).  
> [Firstborn Children of Ilúvatar](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Firstborn): elves.  
> [Hröa(r)](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/F%C3%ABa_and_hr%C3%B6a): physical form belonging to a non-divine soul.  
> [Ilúvatar](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Il%C3%BAvatar): omniscient and omnipotent creator.  
> [Maia(r)](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Maiar): spirits who help the Valar rule.  
> [Music of the Ainur](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Music_of_the_Ainur): the song of the Ainur (Valar and Maiar) that created Eä (the Universe).  
> [Vala(r)](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Valar): spirits who shape and rule Middle-earth.  
> 


End file.
